About Jane
by rafferty424
Summary: Meet Jane, a notsoclose friend of Carrie Bradshaw. She's beautiful, sucussful, and happily married to a man who loves her more than anything in the world. Everything tells her that she should be happy, but, for some reason, she isn't.


_I was bored, so I decided to write this. Its prolly not that good, but I read it over and I thought it was pretty good, so I decided to post it. It may not seem to have that much to do with SATC, but I plan to blend the two together with following chptr's, if yall like it. So read it and leave some feedback. Enjoy …. _

Jane sat, staring deep into Toby's eyes; those huge brown eyes she could stare into all day if she could. How did she end up here? And now that she was here, what was she doing staying here? She kept asking herself in her head. But every time she would rise to leave, she would catch a glance at those eyes, and couldn't bring herself to go.

"I have to be going, Toby, honestly," she said, trying to look anywhere but at his eyes

"No you don't," his voice came, smooth and soft, drawing her back in. She tried her hardest to disregard it, but she couldn't. She planted herself firmly in the seat, content with staying.

Toby was perfect, she thought to herself. He was the perfect man-boy; sweet and sensitive, yet strong and admirable at the same time. He was so full of innocence, so ignorant to the way the world actually worked, and it showed in his eyes, those huge, hazel eyes.

"I think I'm gunna gp to the bathroom, and I think you should come with me," his words flowed like water. Jane didn't respond. She just looked at the centerpiece of the table in the shitty Soho restaurant they were at. Then, against all her better instinct, she looked up, and was caught like a deer in headlights at his illuminating stare.

"Alright," she said in such a low whisper it was barely audible. He slid his hand over the vinyl table top, and set it gently on top of her own.

He rose, and made his way to the short corridor at the back of the small room that led to the restrooms. She didn't watch him go, her attention went back to the centerpiece, as her head was flooded with a thousand different things.

She just couldn't think of anything like that now, she told her self. She grabbed her cheap, detergent streaked goblet, and downed the remainder of the crappy red wine that was in it. Then, she pulled herself to her feet, gained her balance, more mentally than physically, and went down the same path that Toby had moments earlier.

She stopped at the ladies' room, and rested her hand on the cold stainless steel sphere that was the doorknob. She leaned her head against the blue plastic sign that signified which gender the room was to be used by. A smile spread across her poutty lips as she considered what she was about to do, then she shot a stare down the small hallway, and seeing that no one was coming, she released her grasp of the doorknob, and slid her way into the men's restroom.

It was a small room with pea-green floor tiles that made their way up the walls. A single illuminated globe filled the room with abysmal light.

On the same wall as the door there was a grime ridden sink over which hung a piece of stainless steal the served as a mirror, pathetic as it was. On the opposite wall was a urinal, just as grime ridden as the sink, filled with the urine of god knows how many men, along with a decent number of cigarette buts.

Next to the urinal was a stall, the only one in the room, and through the small space between the floor and the door, she could see the chunky boots and boot-cut pant legs of Toby's jeans.

She looked wearily at them, a look of solace on her face, as she pushed the small button in the middle of the knob. Even though she heard the 'click' of the lock locking, she turned it once, just to be sure.

The heels of her boots made a light tapping sound as the weight of her body pushed them against the tiles. Once she got to the stall door, she waited a moment, to take everything in.

Why was this so hard? She thought. She had done this a million times, she told herself. But then she realized that each time they did do it, it became harder and harder for her to live with herself.

She took a deep breath, turned the small metallic dial on the door, and entered the stall, pulling it shut behind her and locking it, for extra protection they both knew they didn't need.

They looked at each other for a moment; he was beautiful, and had a wonderful soul, and she wanted to feel him inside of her. But still, she was hesitant. Seeing this, he moved in close towards her.

He was gentle, as he always was. He was never one to rock the headboard unless she herself suggested it, and she loved that about him. He bent down, and started to kiss her neck. She fell limp at the touch of affection; he could do that for hours, and still she wouldn't be able to get enough.

But when he moved his hand down her back, and reached up her skirt, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her forehead, looking at the floor.

"Don't be," he said with genuine, heart felt, meaning.

That was the last thing they said to each other. For a few minutes, Jane just looked into his eyes, and he her's, with about a foot or so in between them. Then she gently raised her arms and put them on his broad shoulders. She kept them there for a moment, and released a laugh of comfort as she did so.

He placed his hands on both of her forearms, and embraced them with as much passion as she was his shoulders. Then she made her way to the buttons of his shirt. It was a form fitting button down shirt made of fabric resembling the table cloth of a picnic table. The first few buttons were undone, and she moved her hands over the smooth chest that was exposed. Then she started to undo the rest of them, slowly, not letting her lust get the better of her.

He let go of her arms, and let her do what she was doing, simply staring at her face with sincere feeling.

She finished with the buttons on his shirt, but she let it hang closed on his chest for a few minutes. Then, she slid her hands under the loose pieces of fabric, and pushed them back, revealing his cut, sun kissed torso. She ran her hands over his chiseled chest, then down over his abs, and let her fingers rest on his belt buckle, all the while he just continued to look passionately at her, his hands at his sides. She was still hesitant, and he sensed this.

After a few minutes passed of her just resting her fingers on his buckle, staring down at it as though it would kill her, he said "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

She agreed. The best thing would be for him to button his shirt and for both of them to get the hell out of that bathroom. Or, even better, for her to just leave, run out of the restaurant, and never look back.

"You're right," she said lightly, tears building up in her eyes and her emotion spilling out with her words, "I know you're right. But - it doesn't matter."

Then she moved in, and kissed him, long and passionately, with as much passion as she could possibly muster. She wanted that kiss to let him know how much she cared for him, how much she desperately wanted to be with him. And she hoped it fulfilled its purpose.

He embraced her with all the compassion he could summon. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight. She wanted it all just to end there; for her to live in the embrace of those arms for the rest of her life.

But it was Jane who took it further; she undid his belt, and through it to the ground. It was a while before she actually undid the rest of his pants though, because her hands flew up under his shirt and clutched onto his bare back with a hunger.

They gently moved backward, and he propped her up on the door of the stall; he undid the fly on his pants himself.

Then, he looked up at her, and she down at him. She breathed heavily, and he mouthed something she couldn't quite make out, for he was breathing just as heavily. Then, he was inside of her.

In that one moment, she felt as if she could die from the pleasure she was experiencing. But regardless of that, tears still built up in her eyes. They weren't exactly tears signifying the happiness she was now feeling, but rather, they signified all that, by doing this, she would be giving up.

And as he gently slid in and out of her, as she was about to climax, she couldn't help feel a sense of extreme sorrow.

It was one of the most intense orgasms she had ever had. She had to bite down on her lip to muffle the scream that escaped her mouth; her arms clenched tight around his neck. Right after that, he came, not bothering to pull out.

Then everything stopped. It became oddly quiet, their intense panting the only thing to be heard. Maybe the quiet was only apparent to her, she wasn't sure.

And they stayed in that position for quite some time; he still inside of her, and her legs wrapped tightly around his hips.

Then she released her grip, and her feet hit the floor. He backed off, and the feeling of him exiting her body made her sad; another emotion she couldn't possibly explain for the life of her.

"Thank you, Toby," she said in such a whisper she was highly doubtful she was even heard. She grazed his cheek with her hand, and then slowly made her way out of the stall.

She shut the door, and even though a few inches of wood was the only thing that now separated them, she knew they were worlds apart. She walked slowly to the sink, where she collapsed, and her tears fell freely.

She knew he heard her, and she also knew that he knew not to come and comfort her, because that would be breaking rule number one.

Instead, she gathered herself together, made her self as decent looking as possible, and exited the restroom.

Thank god there was no one in the restaurant, she thought as she crossed the small dinning room and exited out onto Broome St, past Varick. Once on the street, she felt as if she would collapse again. But the presence of the throng of people coming her way made her pull herself together.

She walked about two blocks, and somewhere on Spring St she leaned up against a building, taking a seat on the sill of the display window. She didn't feel like going home yet, and would wait as long as she could before it was absolutely mandatory that she hail a cab.

She pulled her phone, flipped it open, and took it off of sleep mode. She had missed only one call during her dinner with Toby, one from Carrie.

She didn't feel like calling her back at the moment. She couldn't deal with putting up a front for her. So instead, she accessed her phonebook, and scrolled down to a number with the label "John's Cell".

She hit the OK button, and when she got his voice mail, said only "Hey baby. I'm in a weird mood, so I think I'm just gunna walk around for a while. Ok? See you later."

She snapped the phone shut and threw it into her purse with some frustration. Why should she have to make calls like that? She thought. It was unfair, not only to her, but to him as well.

She stayed where she was for a couple more minutes, then gathered herself, and stood up straight. Once she was ready to start walking again, she reached back into her bag, and pulled out two rings. One was a slender platinum band encrusted with small round diamonds, the other, was a white gold band with a single oval shaped diamond of moderate size sitting on top of it. She slid both of them onto her lefthand ring finger, and was on her way.

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**


End file.
